


Outcasts

by erenjaegersbooty



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AND DEFINITLEY SPRINGLES, Abuse, Angst, Bullying, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Eventual Smut, M/M, Manipulation, Poor! Marco, Rich! Jean, Sad, Secrets, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, also eren's very promiscuous, also they're both Juniors, and maybe some levi x erwin, bad home lifes, bullied, but mainly jeanmarco, discovering sexualities, finding yourself, is that even an appropriate tag????, jean x marco - Freeform, jeanmarco, lots and lots of gay boys, m/m - Freeform, marco x jean - Freeform, of a lot of different things, outcast, romeo and juliet - Freeform, sad angst, school au, sorry if I offend y'all :(, step-fathers, to asshole dads, type of love stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:27:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erenjaegersbooty/pseuds/erenjaegersbooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being rejected by everyone around him had been normal to Marco. His mother, step-father, and even old friends had abandoned him long ago. And just when he thinks life can only get worse, he meets a boy with piercing gold eyes and oddly colored hair who drives a 2013 Lexus. </p><p>An odd friendship erupts, two boys who people thought would never even speak to one another form an unbreakable bond. They cling to each other as though they're the only hope in the world, maybe a little too much to be 'just friends'...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay. So I've had this AU in my head for quite some time now. So a few warnings before I began:
> 
> 1\. I curse. Sorry, but it really does help to emphasize certain things in the story.  
> 2\. There is abuse in here. Not just physical, but also mental, along with manipulation. If that triggers you, than I'd suggest you don't read this.  
> 3\. There is m/m action, smut, and relationships. There is also f/f relationships, and maybe slight smut, so if that's not your cup of tea than okey-dokey, don't read this story (or read at your own risk). 
> 
> Now, you may begin. :)

His thumbs stuck out of the torn holes in his jacket. The fabric hadn’t been washed in ages, and it wasn’t easy to hide the fact either. Stains reside in various spots on the once grey jacket, and the tattered hems show sign that it’s been worn past its expiration date. He tried to cover the stench of the jacket with cheap gas station cologne, but it was more of a veil than it was a mask. 

Before he knew it, his nightmare had arrived in front of his dark, brown eyes. The school bus. Fear was pumped into his bloodstream, and he anxiously waited for the doors to swing open. The smell of car exhaust was intoxicating to him, filling his lungs to the tip with even more anxiety. 

It’s just a bus though, nothing to be scared about. 

He repeated that in his mind, but he knew it wasn’t the bus that particularly scared him. It was who was inside the bus. The jocks, the preps, even the nerds had more authority over him. As the doors split open, he hesitantly stepped onto the first step. Mud from his knock off converse splattered onto the step, along with his dignity as 3 or 4 crumpled pieces of paper smacked him in the face, throat, and lower gut. He winced as the paper hit him, but he was used to it. If it wasn’t here, than it was still at home.

No matter where he went, it followed him. 

* * *

Jean rolled out of bed approximately at 8:06 a.m. He didn’t even wait for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight beaming in through his windows, he just bolted towards his dresser and wore whatever clothing items his bony fingers grasped first. It happened to be a red flannel, white t-shirt, and black skinny jeans. 

He then went to the bathroom to do his daily routine, which was washing his face, brushing his hair, brushing his teeth, and making sure he looked relatively attractive, in that respectable order. By the time he was done, it was already 8:18, which meant he needed to head to school A.S.A.P. 

Jean rushed downstairs, only to be greeted by his mother, pouring two cups of coffee. Both in mugs: one having a happy snowman with a red scarf on it, the other with a tribal pattern running around it like a banner. When she noticed her son, she gave him a maternal smile, the type that says ‘ you’re really freaking late so hurry your butt up.’ He returned the smile, but more genuinely. He reached across the counter, slipping his fingers around the base of the snowman mug. He proceeded to chug his coffee, but only finished half because of the bitter taste. 

With a kiss to his mother’s foundation stained cheek, he was out the door, still pulling his timberland boots onto his feet of course. With a few slightly frustrated scuffs to the concrete, he managed to wiggle his feet into the boots. Satisfied, he unlocked his car and hopped into the drivers seat. 

Ah, yes, his 2013 Lexus. In his favorite color. Black. 

It was a gift from his mother and father, mainly his father though (since he was the only one that worked). They gave it to Jean on his 16th birthday, and boy, was he pissed as hell. He knew _why_ his dad had picked out this specific gift. He knew _why_ he had given it to him so carelessly, as though he could trust Jean no matter what. It was a bribe, and Jean accepting it was more dangerous than selling your soul to the devil. But in a way, it was the exact same thing. The moment his dad tossed him the keys, a mischievous grin creeping onto his wrinkly face, Jean knew there was no turning back. His soul was gone, along with any freedom he had before. 

Jean arrived at school with no time to spare. The second he exited his car, the warning bell rang, the bell chiming 3 times in a row. 

_‘Just my luck.’_ He thought, a smirk appearing on his face. As he slammed the car door shut, his finger ghosted over the ‘LOCK’ button on his keys. He didn’t click it though. His golden eyes just stared effortlessly at the car. The smirk slowly faded, replaced by a heart shattering scowl. 

“What a fucking joke…” He muttered, mainly to himself. He reluctantly pushed down on the ‘LOCK’ button, and the car made a faint beeping noise to notify him that, indeed, he had accomplished locking his car. Pushing the keys into his pants pocket, he turned around, ready to enter the schools front gates. 

Not ready to collide with some other dude, though.

As he turned, he rammed into someone, his elbow jabbing them in the side of their ribs. The _someone_ let out an exhausted gasp, gripping his side and stumbling backwards from Jean. Jean didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t exactly a people person. Some even called him the Antichrist ( _Anti_ because he was antisocial, and anti _christ_ because he was usually an asshole to people), a nickname that stuck with him from 7th grade all the way up to his freshman year. 

“Uh shit dude,” was the first thing that formed in his brain and left his mouth. He looked at the person he had just elbowed, and the only thing he noticed was freckles. Lots and lots of freckles. 

“sorry, didn’t see you there.” He finished, walking in the opposite direction. As he set foot onto the courtyard, he turned around to see if the guy was still there. Sure enough, he was. Just standing there, ever so still like a statue as other people shoved past him to get to their first period class.

* * *

He gripped the #2 pencil so tight, he was certain it would snap between his fingertips. Every now and then, he’d avert his attention to the board where Mr. Cook was writing down tonights homework. But his attention would only last for so long, and before he knew it his eyes would be back on the sketch he was working on. 

“Mr. Bodt!” 

Marco snapped his head up, the sound of his name coming from his teacher waking him up. He looked up, noticing not only Mr. Cook, but also all of his pupils, were staring at him. All with smug, disgusted looks smeared onto their faces. Marco inhaled scarcely, then exhaled slowly, setting his pencil down onto his sketch pad.

“Y-yes, Mr. Cook?” He asked sincerely, his hands gripping the edge of his desk. They began to tremble, the icy stares of his fellow classmates giving him the chills. Mr. Cook paused, but the ruler in his hand continued to twirl around and around his fat fingers. The resemblance Mr. Cook and his step-father shared was uncanny, and it only made Marco’s hands shake even more. 

“... Do you think it’s wise to be doodling instead of listening to the instructions of your homework?” Mr. Cook asked. Obviously, there was only one right answer. 

“No, sir.” Marco replied, slouching in his desk. He tugged on the strings of his jacket nervously, the frayed ends tickling his fingertips. 

Mr. Cook stomped over to Marco’s desk, eyeing him as though he was nothing more than a dead fly. Suddenly, he snatched up the sketch pad. Marco’s hand went flying to it, as though on instinct, but Mr. Cook slapped it away. 

“So, instead of listening to your teacher, you’re drawing other _boys_ ?” He questioned. The way he said it, it sounded like venom dripping off his tongue. And it felt like acid burning into Marco’s chest. 

“Faggot.” Someone muttered from the back of the class. He turned his head around to see who’d said it, but Mr. Cook slammed the sketch pad onto his desk, sending a violent shock of anxiety up his spine. He whipped his head around to look Mr. Cook in the eyes. Dark, empty, emotionless abysses would be make a lot more sense though. 

Marco shrunk in his seat, still tugging on the strings of his jacket. 

No matter how bad things were at school, they’d still always be better than his home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I yeah, I just wrote 2 chapters in one night :) but now it's 2:30 on a Tuesday night and I have to be up at 6:00 okay well I hope you enjoy Chapter 2! 
> 
> Also if there are any mistakes I'm so sorry I didn't get to proof read it, and it's also roughly 9 pages long *long tired sigh*

Jean jammed his key into the ignition, twisting it and listening to the engine’s roar overpower the rain hitting the roof of his Lexus. Before he backed out of his parking spot, he sat leisurely, enjoying the view of the rain cascading off the school’s roof and onto the asphalt. Each drip from the roof contributed to forming puddles. His golden eyes gazed at the feet smashing into the various puddles, and he noticed all the differences in shoes: pink nikes with white laces, beige flip flops, worn out combat boots, and even some knock off converse caked in mud.

“We’re so different, yet so similar.” He mumbled, and left the school without a second thought. 

His normal route consisted of slight traffic from everyone pouring out of school, but today seemed different. There was less people driving, and instead of honking horns, his ears were filled with the pitter-patter of rain on his car roof. Everything felt, surreal. And Jean wasn’t sure if he liked the feeling in his gut or not.

And as though things couldn’t get any weirder, he pulled onto River Boulevard, just 4 streets away from his house. He finally reached his street, but something caught his eye. Or, _someone_ did at least. 

The boy. The one he had bumped into earlier that day. He was walking on the sidewalk, his clothes drenched from the neverending rain. He had his grey hoodie pulled over his head in an attempt to stay dry, but it had obviously failed. The rain had seeped through all of his clothes, his skin now ice cold from the water inside his shoes, jacket, and even his pants. 

Jean didn’t even know the guy. He didn’t even know his first name, let alone his existence until this morning. And yet here he was, pulling up towards the sidewalk and rolling his window down. At first the boy in the soaking wet jacket didn’t notice Jean’s car. So to fix this problem, Jean thought it’d be smart to scream at the guy.

“Hey, you!” He shouted. He realized he sounded like a douche only after he’d said it, and by then the boy had turned around and was now staring at Jean with wide eyes.

“Uh, yeah… you. You uh, wanna lift?” He asked. 

_‘Wow. Way to sound like some pervy pedophile, Jean.’_ He mentally slapped himself in the face, but returned his consciousness to reality when he realized that the boy had started walking again. Starting to feel slightly panicked, Jean pressed down on the gas slowly and rode up to here the boy was walking.

“H-hey!” He shouted once again, this time the boy turned around with an annoyed look on his face. 

_‘That really doesn’t suit him well...’_ Jean noted mentally.

“What is it?” He asked, shoving his hands into his water filled pockets. Jean was a little taken back by the sudden sass, so he just stared at the boy with his jaw open. 

“Uh, geeze, sorry.” Jean apologized with less amount of sass. “It’s just that, well, it’s pouring right now, and you look rather miserable in your current state.” He said, averting his gaze onto his steering wheel.

The boy muttered a genuine “sorry”, and began rocking back and forth on his heels. His eyes would bounce from the wet asphalt to Jean and his fancy car, then back to the boring asphalt. It was as though he was having an internal conflict, his expression changing from embarrassed to pouty every few seconds. 

“I actually have to go and pick my sister up from daycare, so thanks for the ride, but I’m going to have to pass.” The boy responded after a good 30 seconds of silence. 

Jean raised one of his dark, defined eyebrows. He started thinking of all the daycares in Trost, but could only think of one. Then both eyebrows shot up, and he let his jaw practically smack into the carpeted floor of his Lexus.

“You can’t mean the one at Sina Elementary!” He stated, basically leaping out of his car seat. The boy let out a soft laugh and shrugged. 

“The one and only.” He joked nervously. Jean just gave him a ‘what the actual fuck’ look until the boy started to fidget uncomfortably under his stare.

“Dude, that’s got to be at least 4 miles away. No way you or your lil’ sis can walk there and back in this type of weather.” Jean declared, just before unlocking all the doors to his car.

“Get in.” He demanded. The boy suddenly looked even more nervous than before, and a tiny scowl formed on his features.

“Uh, no.” He countered. Jean rubbed the bridge of his nose.

_‘This dude and his sass, I swear to God...’_

“First of all, I don’t even know your name. Second, what if you kill me and then kidnap my sister?” He placed both his freckled hands into his hips, pivoting all of his weight onto his left leg. 

“First, my names Jean. Jean Kirschtein. Secondly, I’m not a kidnapper. I’m 16, and I’m also pretty sure you’re bigger, taller, and stronger than me.” Jean replied, trying hard not to smile at the face the guy was making.

He had narrowed his chocolate glazed eyes, and was examining Jean. He looked at his hair, his eyes, his nose, his shoulder blades, his ears, his mouth, and paid a lot of attention to his lips. His very soft, smirking lips.

“Alright. I guess I can trust you.” The boy sighed, running his tanned fingers through his wet hair. Droplets of water attached to his hand, so he wiped them with the sleeve of his jacket. 

Jean let out a cocky laugh, and bit his lower lip, trying to refine his ever growing smirk. The boy walked around the front of Jean’s Lexus, and towards the passenger seat. He gripped the handle of the door with the sleeve of his jacket, and tugged. It opened smoothly, but he hesitantly sat down. It took Jean a couple seconds to realize his new passenger had already shut the door and buckled himself in.

“I’m Marco by the way.” The boy smiled, meeting Jean’s gaze gracefully. 

Marco. The name felt so familiar to Jean. Maybe he did know him, but just didn’t recognize him. Marco...Marco… It was right on the tip of his tongue.

“Marco Bodt?” He questioned, but it came out more like a statement. Marco nodded gently, before replying with “The one and only.” 

Now it all made sense to Jean. He remembers this kid, or, at least the rumors about him. There were so many different stories about him, it was hard to make out truth from obvious lies. The funniest one was that he had been abducted by space monkeys to help them destroy Pluto. The saddest had been that he’d gotten hit by a car, and was in a coma. If Jean had known that _this_ was the infamous Marco Bodt, then maybe he wouldn’t have spread some of those rumors. 

“I totally remember you now! Well, not really your face, but definitely your name.” Whoops, that didn’t sound too good, did it Jean.

Marco raised one of his brows, and Jean immediately regretted stating that sentence. It’s not like it was a lie, but it probably wasn’t one of the best things to say upon meeting someone new.

But suddenly Marco let out a soft laugh, which slowly settled into a toothy grin. 

“Haha, yeah. I bet you heard _a lot_ of weird things about me.” Marco laughed, scratching the side of his face. A single drop of water fell from his bangs and onto the collar of his jacket, bleeding into the fabric in the shape a deformed circle.

“Some of the rumors even reached my other school. I think the best one was that I decided to chase my dream as a cowboy, and I moved to Tennessee to become an apprentice of a rodeo guy. And then apparently I like, eloped with his daughter, and we got married and had 4 kids, all named Bobby.” He laughed, the nervousness in his voice getting replaced by confidence. 

Jean joined his laughter, the thought of Marco eloping and being a cowboy made Jean’s gut fuzzy. Maybe from how hard he was laughing. 

“Wait, but you were only gone for like, a year or something?” Jean added, raising his hand and pointing at him. Marco just shrugged gingerly and continued laughing. Slowly their laughs turned into giggles, and then comfortable silence.

“So what really happened, then?” Jean asked, leaning his head to rest on the car seat.

Marco sighed, bringing his jacket sleeve up to rub his temples. He looked up at Jean, his eyes now filled with a different emotion. It wasn’t just sadness, it was sorrow. And it seemed to have been swallowing his eyes whole the longer Jean stared at them. 

“Now that’s a story for another time.” Marco said, his voice growing hoarse.

* * *

“Marco, oh my God! You’re so early, normally you don’t even get here until…” The little girl began counting on her fingers, then looked up at the analog clock, squinting at it. “5 o’clock! But its only…” She started counting on her fingers again, then once more squinted her brown eyes at the clock before saying “4:02. Wow, you got here really early.” 

The little girl had a mess of wavy, dark brown hair tied up into a messy ponytail. She was wearing striped leggings, alternating the colors blue, violet, baby green, yellow, and light pink. Her shoes were cheap tennis shoes you could buy at any Walmart, and her t-shirt was sky blue with a glittery butterfly on it. 

“Mabel!” Marco chimed, swooping in and scooping her up bridal style. Giggles escaped her mouth as he spun with her in his arms. Jean watched awkwardly from the side. He was an only child, and had never actually interacted with children before. They honestly were just these weird little mythical things to him up until now. 

Suddenly the giggles stopped and Mabel was staring Jean dead in the eyes. 

“Hey, Marco, who’s that weird dude?” She asked, trying to lower her voice but failing miserably. Marco let out a faint laugh, trying to hide it from Jean. In return, Jean just rolled his eyes, dismissing the little girls question.

“He,” Marco set Mabel down, right in front of Jean. Jean just stood there firmly, not sure what to do with this 3 foot tall child standing intimidatingly in front of him. 

“was nice enough to give me a ride here, and he’’s also going to give us a ride back.” Marco said quietly, but loud enough so Jean could still hear. 

“Oh.” Mabel sing-songed, then she plucked her backpack from the pile of them (hers had Hello Kitty on it), waved goodbye to the woman who was watching them, and exited the building holding Marco’s hand firmly.

The trio strolled to Jean’s car, and once they actually began driving back, Mabel kept explaining interesting things that had happened that day. It started with how she got to eat a cupcake because it was a little boy named Tommy’s birthday, and then how for show and tell someone brought in a dirty magazine (Jean and Marco quickly changed the subject after that), and then every 20 seconds she’d get distracted from something outside the car. First it was a butterfly, then a dog, then a funny looking rock, and then it was some old lady, and then another dog. 

With her rambling on, the ride was quickly over in a matter of minutes. Jean drove onto Marco’s street, cruising slowly so he didn’t miss his house. Marco’s expression gradually changed from happy to miserable. Even Mabel started talking less excitedly. Jean noticed it too, and he looked at Marco puzzled.

“Oh, you can uh, stop now.” Marco said, and Jean slowly stopped the car. Mabel looked at Marco equally confused as Jean, and started to open her mouth before Marco interrupted her. 

“W-we’ll just, get going now.” He told Jean, unbuckling himself and opening the car door, stepping out and adjusting his backpack. Mabel unbuckled herself too, but waited for Marco to open her door for her. When he did, she jumped out, clinging to Marco’s side worriedly. 

Marco leaned into the passengers window, and let out a slightly joyful sigh. 

“Thanks for the ride. Seriously, it was too kind of you.” Marco told him, letting Mabel tug on his grey jacket sleeve. She had found the hole for his thumbs, and she managed to wedge her whole hand into it, and started giggling like crazy. 

“You know,” Jean started, leaning in closer to the passenger window so Marco could see his face. “you live really close to me. I could totally give you a ride in the mornings and afternoons, if you’d like.” Jean offered, waiting patiently for Marco’s answer.

Marco bit his lip, and smiled. Mabel continued to mess with his jacket sleeve, but he tuned it out.

“You sure that’d be okay?” Marco asked, and Jean literally felt his heart do a 180.

“Uh, y-yeah. It’d be my pleasure.” Jean responded. Marco smiled again, flashing his perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. Jean could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, so he quickly placed his hand on his cheeks, leaning his elbows onto the car’s middle compartment.

_‘Smooth, Jean. Smooth.’_

“Okay. Is 8 o’clock good for you?” Marco asked, his smile growing with every passing second.

“That’d be perfect.” Jean smirked, his blush growing even brighter the longer he stared at Marco’s smile. 

After staring at each other smiling for what felt like hours to Mabel (it was really only 45 seconds or so) they said their goodbyes. Jean drove 2 streets down to his house, and Marco walked 5 houses down to his. 

Jean’s house: 2 stories, has a bunch of flowers in the front yard, literally has a white picket fence surrounding the perimeter, just got repainted last year. 

Marco’s house: 1 story, all the grass is dead and the only living plants are sandspurs, his fence is a chain link fence that is missing a few posts here and there, his house is chipping away from the inside out. 

As Marco and Mabel walked up to the front door of their house, Marco motioned for Mabel to be quiet. He brought his index finger to his lips and made a “shh” noise as quietly as possible. Mabel nodded in understanding, and he pulled a key out from under the front door mat (which had to be _at least_ 20 years old) and gently placed it into the doorknob. He twisted it, and when he felt the door unlock, he plopped it down gently on the concrete slab and scooted the door mat back over it. 

Cautiously, he and Mabel both tip toed into the house. By know, he’d memorized every single squeaky, creaky floorboard in the entire house. As for Mabel, well, he was 8 years old, and could barely remember her own age let alone 32 different floorboards. She stepped on one, and a loud _‘creeeeaaaak’_ echoed throughout the house. 

Both of them froze, and Marco shot worried eyes at his younger sister. Her breathing started to become uneven and Marco sauntered over to her, crouching down to her level. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders, trying to stop her body from trembling. 

He gulped anxiously, waiting for the sound of a door swinging off it’s hinges, but nothing came. Marco slowly got up, and when Mabel protested, he brought his finger up in the “shh” motion again. Mabel stood pouting while Marco investigated what was happening. 

He first checked the living room. No sleeping asshole here. Then the bedroom. Nope, no fatass passed out there either. Then he remembered he hadn’t seen his pickup truck outside, and suddenly the fear risen inside his gut had disintegrated. 

“Mabel, it’s fine. Come to the kitchen.” Marco called out, and the sound of small feet trotting towards the kitchen filled the house. Marco laughed as his little sister jumped from the living room doorway into the kitchen. 

“I can’t see a thing, Marco!” She cried out, stretching her hands out to try and find her brother. When she reached him, she latched onto him like a leach. Marco plucked her up from his leg and set her down on the cold countertop. He stalked towards the light switch, and when he flipped it up, nothing happened. He proceeded to flip it down, and then back up. Still, nothing. 

Then he tried to see if the T.V. worked. When he pressed the power button, nothing. Still darkness. 

“God damnit.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Mabel gasped, covering her mouth with her fragile hands.

“Sorry, don’t repeat that!” Marco waved his hands in front of him, and Mabel nodded, trying not to giggle.

_‘If only she actually understood...’_ Marco thought, and he sighed, walking back into the kitchen. He gripped the handles on the cabinets and swung them open. To no surprise, the only food they had was 3 cups of Ramen, a bag of half eaten Doritos, and a small, snack-size box of Trix cereal. Not to mention lots and lots of whiskey, beer, wine, and vodka. But obviously, for certain reasons, you can’t give those to an 8 year old. So Marco let out a miserable sigh, and grabbed the thing of cereal. 

“How’s cereal sound?” He asked, and Mabel swung her feet even faster, the grin growing on her face. She gave Marco and toothy grin, even though she was missing 2 of her teeth. 

And Marco felt his heart shatter, because the only thing he could do to protect his sister was shield her from the truth. And yet he knew, that somewhere deep down, her innocence was chipping away day by day. 

* * *

“Mom, I’m home!” Jean shouted, shutting the front door behind himself and kicking his timberlands off into the corner of the front door. He noticed his mom was sitting on their leather sofa, her freshly painted feet propped up with footrest. She had on some gossipy soap opera, something Jean could never get into , even if his life depended on it. She had her hand dipped into a bowl of popcorn, and she had a small glass of wine on the coffee table.

She turned around, her sandy blonde hair pulled into a messy bun on her head. Her pincurls were sticking out, and she patted them down self consciously. When she finally noticed her son standing by the front door, she smiled, but quickly forced a frown.

“Young man, where were you?” She asked, wagging her index finger at him. The French manicure on her fingernails was still there, even after 2 weeks. 

“Sorry, I had to give a friend a ride home.” He told her, strolling over to the sofa and leaning over it. He reached over his mother and grabbed a handful of popcorn. His mother quickly smacked his hand, and he recoiled, quickly stuffing his face with popcorn. 

“What? Am I not allowed to eat popcorn or something?” He asked, rubbing the back of his hand as though it’d just been burned. 

“Not until you tell me the truth, Jean.” His mother stated, picking up the popcorn bowl and setting it onto the coffee table, far from Jean’s reach. 

He let out an exasperated groan, throwing his hands up. 

“I told you, I drove a friend home.” Jean had repeated, walking around the couch to get to the bowl of popcorn. His mother swiftly dived in for the bowl, and plucked it from the coffee table, shielding it from her sons hands.

“What friend? Do I know them?” She asked, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth and crunching it. 

“No, I barely know them-” Jean was immediately interrupted by his mother.

“Oh, let’s invite them over for dinner then!” His mother suggested. Jean instantly recoiled his entire body, shaking his head violently. 

“No, nope. Nah-ah. Not to be rude towards dad or nothin’, but he wouldn’t like this _‘friend_ .’” Jean put air quotations around the word friend, giving it lots of emphasize. 

“Why, does this _‘friend’_ do drugs or something?” His mother questioned. Jean just let out a frustrated sigh, and rubbed his now forming headache. He massaged his temples as he spoke with his mother.

“No. He doesn’t. Just, never mind, I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Jean tells his mom, and before she has time to answer, he’s bolted up the stairs and has locked himself away in his room. He logs onto his laptop, and starts researching his new _‘friend.’_

“Why did you move away, Marco?” Jean asks, scrolling through facebook, trying to find a profile picture that includes freckles. And lots of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again sorry for any mistakes I made! A new chapter will be up within a week or two, so stay tuned! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, chapter 1 complete, now it's time to get working on the others. Not sure how long this will be, probably more than 10 chapters (HOPEFULLY more than 10 chapters). Nah it'll be more than 10, but I just have to type them out and whatnot. Chapter 2 will either be posted within this week, or this month. If I forget to update soon, I apologize in advance. School is not too easy this year, and I'm already doing poorly in my Biology class. :( 
> 
> BUT YES! MORE JEANMARCO INTERACTION IN THE NEXT CHAPTER ALONG WITH VIEWS INTO THEIR HOME LIVES! So stay tuned :)


End file.
